Forgotten Casualties
by Jerathai
Summary: Not all casualties occur on the battlefield. This is a kleenex story, folks.


The Omaticaya started drifting away as soon as the ceremony was concluded. Only Mo'at and the immediate family stayed behind as one of the last of those mortally wounded in the Great War was laid to rest.

Neytiri watched An'nai and Tiri slip away into the jungle, and paused only long enough to accept a heartfelt hug and kiss on the forehead from Jake before emulating them. She felt a brief pang of guilt in being able to avail herself of that freedom, one that her mother could not yet claim. She also felt incredible gratitude towards Jake for accepting her occasional need for solitude without question.

The death-ceremony had been called for far too many times in the past two months. Not a week had gone by without at least one warrior succumbing to the wounds that had been suffered in the battle to save the Tree of Souls. The demands on the Tsahik and her acolytes had been heavy, and they took advantage of every opportunity for a private moment to seek out Eywa and give their burdens over to Her.

The most wrenching ceremony of all had happened while the Omaticaya had still been at the Tree of Souls. There had been far too much danger when Old Hometree had fallen to allow anyone to pause and properly inter the dead. By the time the War was over, it was too dangerous to return; scouts sadly reported the presence of far too many scavengers in the area. Though everyone knew and accepted the fact that this was simply part of the flow of life, they still grieved. For many, the ceremony for those who had died in Old Hometree's fall felt incomplete.

_At least the other Clans were there to support us in our grief,_ Neytiri thought to herself as she took to the forest canopy. She had been incredibly fortunate in being able to escape on her honeymoon with Jake for a while; the joy of those days had given her the strength to enable her to face her duties as her mother's primary acolyte since her return. Still, each new ceremony called for a quiet pause, a bit of time to reconnect to Eywa to renew that strength against the days to come.

The last remnants of the Time of Sorrow were almost past; those who could not survive their battle-wounds were gone to Eywa. Those who remained would now go on.

Neytiri was about to jump across to a branch that led higher into the canopy when her sharp ears caught a barely audible sigh. She stopped to orient on the sound and stealthily proceeded in the direction it had come from. She cautiously peered around the trunk of the tree in front of her – and saw a small blue arm rise on a branch below her. The arm bent at the elbow and moved back and forth horizontally a couple of times before dropping back out of sight. She heard the sigh again. A young Omaticaya, crying.

She stood and walked slowly and openly towards the youngster, making enough casual noise to announce her presence while respecting the young one's grief. A boy, perhaps thirteen, fourteen summers. No longer a child, not yet a man. As soon as the boy registered Neytiri's presence, he stated in a dull voice, "My chores are done."

Her heart went out to him. "That is a good thing. The clan is grateful for your help. May I sit with you for a while?"

It was very obviously not a response he was expecting; he shrugged, but moved over a bit to make space for her.

Neytiri thanked him and sat down, being careful to leave a respectful distance between them. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree and let her eyes survey the jungle around them. The boy obviously had some woods-training; he'd chosen a good spot to sit in. They were too high in the canopy for ground-predators to quickly reach, not high enough to restrict movement in any direction should the need to flee arise, and the trunk behind them protected their backs. She allowed herself to sweep the area again, just for the sake of appreciating all of the plants growing around them. "You found a wonderful spot to sit in. It is very quiet and beautiful here," she complimented him.

He shrugged, and didn't say anything.

Neytiri leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh. They sat together in silence for a while. She opened her eyes after a few minutes to look at the forest appreciatively. "I often come out to the jungle when I wish to be alone with Eywa. I feel that She can always hear what is in my heart, even when I cannot find the words to say what it is I am feeling. It feels good to me to know that She understands."

The boy was curious despite himself. "Why would you want to be alone? You look so happy all the time, especially when you are with the Olo'eyctan. Why be by yourself in the forest when you can be with him?"

Neytiri smiled, "Yes, I am very happy with him. But sometimes, when my heart gets sad, I want to be alone with it for a time." She looked away from the youngster, up into the canopy. "Ma'sempul died when Old Hometree was destroyed." A tear fell as she remembered. "Sometimes, I just want to be by myself and remember him."

The youngster dropped his head after a moment and she heard his voice grow thick. "Ma'sanok died then too. She ran back into Hometree to try and save my sister. She never came back. Ma'sempul died fighting the Sky People. I'm alone now."

Neytiri's eyes closed in pain. A living casualty of the war, untouched in body but as greatly wounded as any combatant, one having wounds that would take far longer to heal than any left by bow or gun.

What was left of the boy's tenuous reserve broke in the presence of shared grief. His head dropped and his shoulders started shaking. Neytiri didn't need the inner prompting; she reached out and took the child into her arms. The unexpected and much-needed comfort unlocked his anguish, and he was finally able to howl out his pain. Neytiri wept with him and rocked him until both of them had spent their tears.

The child was exhausted by the time he'd cried himself out. Neytiri tenderly reached out and smoothed away the tear-tracks from his face. "What is your name?" she asked gently.

"Natan," was the quiet response.

She smiled and hugged him gently. "There is someone I would like you to meet, Natan. When ma'tsmuké Sylwanin died, my friend Teekan understood me more than anyone else. He was always there for me to talk to when I needed to talk, and his arms were always there for me when I needed to cry. I think that he will be a good friend to you too. I can take you to him now, if you would like."

The boy sniffled and then nodded. "Yes, please. I think I would like a friend."

Neytiri helped him up and wrapped an arm around the youngster's shoulders. "I would like to be your friend too – if you wouldn't mind."

Natan surprised her by wrapping his arms around her in a hug, "I don't mind."

She laid one hand on his hair lightly and hugged him back. "It is a good day when one makes a new friend, and an even better one when you make two. Shall we go?"

The boy let her go and a small smile appeared on his face for the first time as he nodded again.

The Omaticaya's future Tsahik held out her hand and the two Na'vi walked back to New Hometree together, tails swinging behind them.

And so the Great War claimed one less casualty.

***

Author's Dedication: To all the forgotten and invisible casualties of war, those _"who only stand and wait."_


End file.
